


postscript

by curiositykilled



Series: tumblr prompts [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Character Death Fix, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:46:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiositykilled/pseuds/curiositykilled
Summary: He regrets the words immediately, instinctively knowing they were the wrong ones. Sure enough, Shiro hisses out an angry huff of breath.“Sorry your intentions didn’t work out,” he spits.Ulaz’s ears twist against the side of his skull, unhappiness flattening them back. He presses his fingertips together until the claws start to hurt his finger pads.





	postscript

                  Shiro is remarkably easy to find for someone as clever and small as he is, Ulaz thinks. In the arena, his agility and skill had made him a formidable opponent against fighters with far more brute strength. But here, where he is inherently safe, those instincts are less utilized. Ulaz finds him readily.

                  The room is little more than a cupboard, but it offers a spectacular view. Stars zip past in white streaks through the darkness, so fast Ulaz can only tell himself that they are stars and not see it for himself.

                  Shiro is a dark huddle in the corner of the room, to human eyes no doubt only a silhouette. Ulaz’s eyes are keen enough, however, to make out the minute tension that suddenly afflicts Shiro’s frame. Ulaz’s own shoulders slump a little, but he steels himself to speak.

                  “May I join you?”

                  Shiro’s shoulder twitches up in an aborted shrug, constrained by the blanket he’s wrapped around himself.

                  “Do what you want,” Shiro says.

                  There is an unspoken but clearly audible _‘you will anyway’_ in the way Shiro refuses to look at him. It’s nearly enough to make Ulaz flee. The feeling that he is unwanted is palpable.

                  He steps inside anyway.

                  Shiro starts to wedge himself more firmly into the corner but catches himself and freezes. There is a ripping sensation in Ulaz’s chest, like someone took hold of his soul and pulled.

                  He stops as far from Shiro as the room will allow and folds himself down to the ground. It’s not that far; the constraints of the room limit them to sitting within an arm’s reach of each other. The air seems to grow stale more quickly than it should, turning static as if there is an unfulfilled expectation thrumming through the empty space between them.

                  “I did not intend for you to be upset,” Ulaz finally says.

                  He regrets the words immediately, instinctively knowing they were the wrong ones. Sure enough, Shiro hisses out an angry huff of breath.

                  “Sorry your _intentions_ didn’t work out,” he spits.

                  Ulaz’s ears twist against the side of his skull, unhappiness flattening them back. He presses his fingertips together until the claws start to hurt his finger pads.

                  “I…I made the best decision available to me,” he starts again, willing Shiro to understand. “I did not have time to inform you. It was imperative I act quickly.”

                  Shiro says nothing, jaw tense and angry. Before, Ulaz would have reached out to gently smooth it with a fingertip. Now, he’s afraid he’s lost that privilege. His claws dig deeper into his skin.

                  “Shiro, please,” he pleads, “look at me.”

                  Shiro turns to face him, then, and Ulaz feels that tear in his chest again. Shiro’s eyes are a little red, the fragile skin around them puffy, and tear tracks glisten on his cheeks. Ulaz reaches out instinctively, but Shiro jerks away.

                  “Are you happy now?” Shiro demands.

                  “Shiro, please,” Ulaz begs, “I never meant to hurt you. I only sought to do what was right under the circumstances.”

                  Ulaz picks at his pants nervously. They’re not his, really. The princess was kind enough to grant him a bedroom with a fabricator already installed. There is a suite of clothes just his size waiting for him now. The number of choices nearly overwhelmed him when he first saw them. He has become accustomed to the austerity of pretending to be dead.

                  “I am sorry.”

                  Shiro stiffens. Ulaz grimaces and turns his gaze back down. The wrong words, again, then, but he can find no others. He can only hope that Shiro will hear him and understand.

                  “I’m so sorry, Shiro,” he repeats, more quietly.

                  “For what?”

                  Ulaz stiffens, ears swiveling towards Shiro. He lifts his head, but Shiro is still staring through the window, not looking at him.

                  “For all of it,” Ulaz admits readily. “I am sorry for hurting you and for not telling you of my plan. I am sorry for all the days I was not at your side and all the nights I missed you. I am sorry.”

                   The stars have started to hurt his eyes, the bright-white of them too intense against the darkness of space. He closes his eyes against them, but still they burn on the backs of his eyelids.

                  “Okay.”

                  Ulaz startles, eyes flying open. Shiro’s opened his near arm, the blanket dropping down like a cape behind him. Ulaz stares for a long beat until Shiro looks over. The tear tracks are fresher now, one drop still clinging to the underside of his chin, but his face is softer now, more open. It’s a vulnerability Ulaz knows he shows to only a few. Keith, Pidge’s father – and Ulaz.

                  “Come here,” Shiro says, shaking the blanket a little.

                  After a hesitant pause, Ulaz does – slowly. Once he is within reach, Shiro tugs on him till their sides are pressed together. He settles the blanket’s edge on Ulaz’s far shoulder and then drops his hand to Ulaz’s side. The blanket starts to slip and Ulaz grabs hold of it a little too quickly; his claws pierce the thin fabric.

                  A warm weight settles into his side, and he looks down to find the top of Shiro’s head just under Ulaz’s collarbone. He can feel Shiro’s breath warm through his shirt’s thin fabric.

                  “I’m still upset,” Shiro says. “But…I’ve missed you.”

                  The confession is more honest than Ulaz expects. He reaches around to place a tentative arm around Shiro’s shoulders, ready to pull it away if Shiro desires it. Instead, Shiro sinks more firmly into Ulaz’s side, relaxing, and Ulaz secures his palm around Shiro’s deltoid. After a moment, he turns his gaze back to the window and smooths his thumb in careful circles over Shiro’s skin.

                  This time, the stars seem softer somehow, as if they’ve gentled their light. He rests his cheek against the top of Shiro’s head and watches them soar past into the deep, still dark.

                 


End file.
